


i don't wanna hurt you baby

by ShippingEverything



Series: his royal highness prince calroy rocks [5]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Homoeroticism, M/M, Wrestling, a couple seconds of cara but not enough to necessitate a character tag, i never know what to tag these..., not explicit but well. i used for mature tag for a reason ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25658263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: Amethar has always known that Calroy isn’tsmall; he’s smaller than Amethar but most people are, an effect of the Rocks genetics running true rather than anything particular about Calroy. It’s easy to forget though, when Calroy doesn’t use his size the way Amethar or one of the knights would, when he wears silken doublets and uses his words instead of his fists. It’s especially easy, Amethar is realizing, to forget about the swell of Calroy’s arms, the definition in his pecs, the dusting of hair over his chest and the trail that disappears down into his trousers-Calroy clears his throat and Amethar’s eyes snap up. He can feel his face heating. “Something wrong?”Or: Haven’t you heard? Wrestling isallthe rage in Ceresia
Relationships: Calroy Cruller/Amethar Rocks
Series: his royal highness prince calroy rocks [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798678
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	i don't wanna hurt you baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bilbo_Swaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bilbo_Swaggins/gifts).



> I’ve been to three lube wrestling competitions at a gay bar in my city (that almost always devolve into nude wrestling by the finals) and i think thats important for you to know before you read this fic because it helps explain why i'm just kinda.... like this. i'm sorry, at least a little bit. anyway this is ABSOLUTELY riana’s fault first and foremost, and then kev’s fault after that for making [such a handsome and beefy calroy](https://twitter.com/eldritchsmite/status/1288913243918893056)…… i am a simply gay and i have calroy brainrot, i can only stand so much
> 
> title from abba's Honey Honey, please enjoy... _this_

Apparently, being King doesn’t mean that Amethar can make his second-in-command stop his duties whenever he wants, even if his second-in-command is going to marry him. Usually, that’s just because of Calroy’s drive and dedication to duty, the part of Cal that makes him leave Amethar’s bed cold to get an early start on his work and tell Amethar that they _absolutely can’t_ sneak out to Dulcington, not even for a quick picnic, but sometimes he has _diplomatic obligations_.

Amethar hates diplomatic obligations for so many reasons, starting with all the double-speaking politics he has to put up with and continuing on, but right _now_ he hates them because Calroy has been fulfilling his in Ceresia for almost _two months_. After all that time without his best friend, Amethar thinks it’s completely understandable that he’s a bit excitable now, as he waits for Calroy’s carriage to return. Caramelinda, taking advantage of both the twins taking a nap at the same time to join Amethar in the fresh air, disagrees.

“You’re going to wear a hole in your shoes if you keep pacing,” She comments dryly. Amethar doesn’t stop pacing.

“What’s taking them so long? Do I need to buy him new meeps? A new carriage? A new driver?” He asks, unable to stop moving, tapping one hand nervously against his leg as he walks. Caramelinda shakes her head as he continues, “ _Something_ has to be slowing them down, they should’ve been here by now.”

“Their last messenger said before noon, not an exact time, and we haven’t heard any news to the contrary,” She assures. Amethar forces his jaw to unclench and stops pacing, though he lets his hand keep tapping. Caramelinda sighs and presses a hand to Amethar’s shoulder. “Relax, Amethar, we’ve only been out here for half an hour. They’ll get here soon.”

Amethar doesn’t tell Caramelinda that, given the choice, he would have been out here since dawn, doesn’t mention that he’s been wishing to eschew all his kingly duties and stand at the gate to watch for his beloved from the moment he woke this morning. Caramelinda, much like Calroy, _likes_ politicking. He’s saved from responding by the distant sound of meeps growing ever closer.

Amethar can feel his smile growing as the shape of Calroy’s carriage does, feels like he might shake right out of his skin with excitement. Beside him, Caramelinda snorts a laugh.

“You do know you can’t jump him in front of the castle, right? I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that would be wildly improper,” She says under her breath and Amethar only barely resists the kneejerk _my sisters are making fun of me_ instinct to elbow her. He’s not even thinking about _that_ , not really, not completely -- though, now that Caramelinda’s brought it up, he does remember that he’d just managed to find a spot behind Calroy’s ear that made him forget how to speak for a few minutes and he wants to see if he can repeat the results -- he’s just excited to have Calroy _back_ ; even doing his normal duties like paperwork and meeting with dukes are more bearable when he knows that he’ll get to see Calroy at the end of the day, wrap his arms around Calroy’s waist, press his nose to the crown of Calroy’s head and smell whatever new shampoo he’s trying this week.

“I don’t think you have room to talk, Miss ‘I’m having your sister’s baby’,” He snarks instead of telling her any of that. Caramelinda rolls her eyes.

“You _know_ there was a ritual in one of her books-”

“And you and she were nothing but perfectly chaste all the time, I’m sure, barely any touching,” Amethar cuts in. Caramelinda predictably turns away, flustered. There’s still a slight ache in Amethar’s chest when he talks about his sisters, but having someone like Caramelinda who knew and loved Lazuli just as much as he did, if not more, makes it a bit easier.

When Calroy’s carriage finally arrives at the gate, Amethar abandons all sense of decorum. He won’t kiss Calroy here -- in public, where any gossipy knights would see them, which his elders would be _extremely_ unhappy about -- but he can’t stop himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet and completely yelling over Calroy’s herald as he attempts to do his job.

“Cal, it’s just me and Caramelinda, no need to put on the whole show.”

“But you know I love the ceremony,” Calroy responds, though he still steps out, patting his dejected herald on the shoulder as he walks past. He looks good, maybe a bit paler than normal from weeks inside the Ceresian senate building but he’s clean-shaven and his hair is pulled back with one of the emerald ribbons Amethar gave him. Despite his earlier claims, Amethar _does_ find it difficult to stand still as Calroy bows politely to Caramelinda instead of pushing him back into his carriage and taking the next half hour to re-familiarize himself with his betrothed. He perseveres and is rewarded with how Calroy smiles at him, soft and sweet.

“My Majesty,” Calroy says, pressing his lips to the back of Amethar’s hand.

“Didn’t I say I didn’t want the whole show?” Amethar asks, putting on an air of annoyance even as his heart speeds up. He takes Calroy’s hand properly and squeezes it. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Amethar, though the letters certainly helped.”

The back of Amethar’s neck warms at the reminder. He’s never exchanged letter with someone before, not real ones -- Laz sent missives to the Front for him and Rococoa, Citrina would send him lessons when she was in Vegetania that he’d summarily ignore -- and especially not ones like the _letters_ that Calroy sends. Some of the letters were completely normal, details about his days that he thought Amethar would find interesting, but some of them were _letters_ , with coquettish insinuations so skillfully woven into normal sentences that Theo, who helped Amethar read and compose his letters when Calroy was away, didn’t catch them. It had driven Amethar crazy enough to reread the letters on his own, painstakingly going over Calroy’s perfectly curled cursive until he could find the words _I’ve learned a new fighting style I’m sure you’ll find intriguing; did you know Ceresian soldiers favor wrestling?_ as easily as breathing.

“They did?” He asks. He doesn’t even remember what he’d written in his reply to Calroy but it was probably over-eager and not half as smooth as Cal was, _embarrassing_.

“Of course,” Calroy says, sure and steady. Amethar still isn’t sure what Calroy sees in him, why he agreed to let Amethar court him and why he’s marrying him, but as Cal’s smile slides playful and his eyes twinkle up at Amethar, Amethar knows there must be _something_ and he’s grateful for whatever it is.

“Yours did too,” Amethar assures, “I keep them at my bedside and-”

“I am still _right here_ ,” Caramelinda says abruptly, startlingly. Amethar takes a stumbling step away from Calroy. “But don’t worry, I’m leaving now. I can give you an hour of free time, in exchange for night duty with the twins.”

“ _Tonight_?” Amethar asks, tone admittedly whiny, “ _Obviously_ I’m not going to want to be running to and from the girls’ room _tonight_.”

Caramelinda is unswayed. “That’s why I’m giving you now. Otherwise, I’m sure the council will be _delighted_ to hear that Calroy has returned from Ceresia-”

“ _Caramelinda_ -”

“Can you make it two hours? Or even an hour and a half, really, but two would be ideal,” Calroy interrupts. Caramelinda sizes him up for a moment before nodding. “Then you’ve got a deal. I can work with that.”

“Excellent doing business with you, don’t tell me anything more about this.”

“I didn’t want to tell you anything in the _first place_ ,” Amethar yells as Caramelinda walks away. She doesn’t respond but he _knows_ she hears him. He huffs and turns back to Calroy, who is holding an arm out.

“Shall we?”

Amethar takes Calroy’s arm and lets him talk about his trip, the stuff Amethar already knew from the letters and new facts, boring recollections of meetings and names that Amethar wouldn’t remember, no matter _how_ important Senator So-and-so is to the running of Ceresia. They walk for a while until Amethar realizes that Calroy isn’t steering him towards the residential parts of the castle as he’d originally assumed. “Uh, where are we going?”

“Our training yard,” Calroy answers easily like Amethar didn’t just cut into one of his stories. He raises an eyebrow, looks at Amethar through his lashes, and Amethar thinks he would let this man walk him into a warzone if he asked nicely. “You wanted to see my new fighting style, right?”

For a moment, Amethar thinks that he’s completely misunderstood everything -- maybe Cal hadn’t _meant_ for the _letters_ to sound like that, maybe he was being sincere and straight-forward all the time, Amethar was reading too much into it and had spent weeks dreaming of something that had barely occurred to Calroy -- and then he recognizes the spark in Cal’s eyes and his heart settles. He bumps his shoulder against Calroy’s and huffs. “You’re an asshole.”

“Only when its fun,” Calroy chirps. He stops and searches Amethar’s face for a moment, one corner of his mouth tilted indulgently. He rolls his eyes and presses his hands to either side of Amethar’s face, gently, like he’s holding something important and dainty; Amethar has never felt delicate, worked his whole life to make sure he wouldn’t ever have to feel delicate, but when Calroy holds his face like this, Amethar thinks that he gets the appeal. “Come here already.”

When Amethar kisses Calroy, he’s still smiling and Amethar can feel the love swell in his chest. It has been so long and kissing Calroy feels like coming home even if he’s never left.

“Seriously though,” Calroy murmurs against Amethar’s lips, the movement of his mouth is infinitely more interesting than his words; Amethar is able to distract him into a few more languid kisses before Calroy pushes him away with a pat to Amethar’s cheek, eyes fluttering open. “Training grounds. It’s not the first place anyone will check and I really _do_ want to show you a couple of moves.”

“Well, then, I _guess_ that’s alright.”

Calroy shakes his head and tugs Amethar along. When they reach the training ground, he motions for Amethar to remove his crown and adornments, which Amethar does gladly; if given the option, he’d never wear all the rings and capes that his title requires, would rarely bare the weight of the full Royal crown, but Amethar doesn’t make the rules so he gladly takes the respite he’s offered in times like this. Amethar places his adornments on down, rolls his neck, and promptly chokes on his own tongue as he turns back around.

Amethar has always known that Calroy isn’t _small_ ; he’s smaller than Amethar but most people are, an effect of the Rocks genetics running true rather than anything particular about Calroy. It’s easy to forget though, when Calroy doesn’t use his size the way Amethar or one of the knights would, when he wears silken doublets and uses his words instead of his fists. It’s especially easy, Amethar is realizing, to forget about the swell of Calroy’s arms, the definition in his pecs, the dusting of hair over his chest and the trail that disappears down into his trousers-

Calroy clears his throat and Amethar’s eyes snap up. He can feel his face heating. “Something wrong?”

“You- Chest- You’re-” Amethar looks away to try and gather his thoughts. He tries to clear his throat but it seems that all the moisture in his mouth has disappeared. “I didn’t know you’d be taking your shirt off.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry I didn’t explain. It’s traditional in Ceresia, but I can-”

“No!” Amethar says, too eager and too fast. “It’s fine, of course it’s fine, if we’re doing Ceresian wrestling then we should follow Ceresian traditions, right? I can- I’ll just- yeah.”

To his credit, Calroy doesn’t laugh _aloud_ when Amethar gets stuck in his shirt but Amethar thinks he can read Calroy pretty well by now, so it’s easy to tell that his best friend is trying to hide his amusement out of courtesy.

“Alright, what do I need to do?”

“It starts with grappling,” Calroy gets in a position that Amethar mirrors and takes his hands. “And then it’s just about pinning the other person. It’s not particularly difficult.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Amethar replies. He pushes against Calroy, testing, and Calroy presses back and he holds them at an equilibrium.

“I think so,” Calroy says, and then with a flex of his arms, he’s suddenly gone, leaving Amethar stumbling into nothingness. Calroy moves, quick as a whip, to grab Amethar’s arm and _pull_ ; Amethar is on his stomach before he’s even registered his feet leaving the ground.

“My point,” Calroy says from on top Amethar, his entire chest pressed along Amethar’s back.

Amethar sits dazed for a moment even after Calroy gets up, but he eventually takes Calroy’s offered hand and demands, “Show me how you did that.”

“You want me to reveal all my secrets? Absolutely not.”

Amethar plants his feet, steadies his stance. “Then do it again so I can figure it out.”

“ _Gladly_.”

Calroy easily lays Amethar flat three more times. With each success, Calroy’s confident smirk grows, and more and more of his hair escapes its ponytail. He looks radiant, absolutely perfect even in the narrowed scope of Amethar’s peripheral vision as he joyously sits atop Amethar’s back.

Amethar accepts Calroy’s hand up again and shakes his head free of distracting thoughts. His eyes narrow in focus. “I think I have it.”

Calroy laughs, disbelieving and a little mean in a way that pools directly in Amethar’s gut. “Alright then, let’s see it then.”

This time Amethar follows when Calroy tries to shift out of the way, keeping contact and balance even as Calroy manages to wrap one arm around him. Amethar holds Calroy as still as possible and tries to figure out how to shift their stalemate into his favor, proud of himself for picking it up so fast; physicality has always come easy to him, swordsmanship and stances and battle planning are all things he knows well, and he’s glad to see the skills transfer over to this new form as well. Before he can figure it out, Calroy makes a considering grunt and shifts his feet; he settles a hand in the center of Amethar’s back and twists his torso until Amethar finds himself twisting too, his weight turned against him until he’s twirled to the ground, landing hard on his back.

“You almost had me that time,” Calroy, the asshole, barely sounds winded. His hair has come almost completely undone, the curls loose and bouncing as he grins down at Amethar. “Let me fix my hair.”

“You could at least get up,” Amethar tries to affect annoyance but the look Calroy shoots him makes it clear that he’s seen directly through it. Amethar is enjoying this, the blood-pumping thrill of fighting with someone he knows as well as he knows Calroy, the heat emanating from where Calroy’s thighs as he straddles one of Amethar’s legs, the sight of Calroy’s sweat-slick chest glistening in the sun and his muscles working as he reties his ribbon.

“Are you going to make me? Do you think you could?” Calroy challenges as he ties his bow. “You haven’t won a bout yet.”

Calroy may be better at Ceresian wrestling, may know all the fancy tricks, but Amethar grew up tumbling with Sapphria and she _never_ fought fair. It’s almost too easy for Amethar to jolt into motion and take advantage of Calroy’s surprise to flip their position and pin Calroy’s hands. “You sure about that?”

For just a moment, half a second, Calroy’s mouth twists into something Amethar can’t identify. Then Calroy jerks his body in an attempt to escape and Amethar has something entirely different to focus on: he has his gorgeous, wonderful lover under him in a way that brings his gorgeous, wonderful lover’s leg in _dangerous_ proximity to Amethar’s dick. He jerks away from Calroy’s movement, dropping his pin on Calroy immediately, and Calroy’s eyes widen in confusion before they settle into pleased understanding.

“And here I thought you were going to win this time,” Calroy says as he rolls his body again, deliberate and aimed.

“ _Cal_ ,” He says, pleading and chastising at the same time. He doesn’t buck into Calroy because he is the _king_ and he has more self-control than that, even if it’s only a bit more. Calroy just smiles, slow and sweet like honey, and reaches up to loop his arms around Amethar’s neck, to pull them chest to chest and nose to nose.

“Beloved,” Calroy says, eyes lidded and sparkling, “I wasn’t complaining.”

When Calroy kisses Amethar, it’s ravenous. Calroy wraps his free leg around Amethar and surges into him, teases Amethar’s lips open and licks into his mouth. It has been _so long_ , and Amethar had forgotten how good this feels, Calroy’s fingers at the nape of his neck and his thigh between his legs, being held and supported so fully by someone he adores. Calroy’s hips snap in a particularly satisfying way and Amethar has to break their kiss to pant wetly into Calroy’s neck and get a hold of himself.

“How long do we have?” He asks after a moment, when he’s sure his speech won’t devolve entirely into _please, more, now, Cal, please_.

It takes Calroy another second to respond and he sounds just as dazed as Amethar. “What?”

“From Caramelinda, the time she was going to buy us,” Amethar clarifies. Now that he can think, he gives Calroy’s neck a quick peck. “Do you know how much longer we have?”

“Oh, _that_ , I-” Calroy cuts himself off as Amethar moves his attention upward, finds the spot behind Cal’s ear and is glad to find that it’s effects are unchanged, “ _Stop that_ , I’m trying to _focus_. By the sun, I’d say we have at least another hour. Why?”

Amethar grins against Calroy’s skin, delighted. “I can work with an hour”

**Author's Note:**

> "lydia, why do all your calmethar kissing fics involve amethar getting rocked?" dearheart, i am a simple man with simple wants, and one of them is to push an agenda that amethar is very into being taken down a peg. is this related to my own interests? maybe. but i create content for MYSELF first and foremost and i will not apologize.
> 
> i hope you liked this! it is _so_ much longer than i ever intended for it to be, but that's just how it is sometimes! thanks for reading, comments and kudos and the like make me so very happy!
> 
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